


Accidental Torture Plant

by IvoryRaven



Series: Corona Challenge [26]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Torture Plant Acquisition, Blood and Torture, Gratituous Torture, Torture, Torture By Plant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:42:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23995468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvoryRaven/pseuds/IvoryRaven
Summary: Neville gives Harry a plant he created.The plant has more to it than either of them realize.
Series: Corona Challenge [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1705024
Comments: 8
Kudos: 61
Collections: Corona Challenge





	Accidental Torture Plant

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [mintal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintal/pseuds/mintal) in the [CoronaChallenge](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/CoronaChallenge) collection. 
  * In response to a prompt by [littlecupkate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlecupkate/pseuds/littlecupkate) in the [CoronaChallenge](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/CoronaChallenge) collection. 
  * In response to a prompt by [littlecupkate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlecupkate/pseuds/littlecupkate) in the [CoronaChallenge](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/CoronaChallenge) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Neville accidentally makes a plant monster. What follows is up to you.

“Here you go, Harry!” 

Neville’s smile was so bright when he handed over the little pot that Harry just couldn’t say no. “What is it?” he asked instead.

“I bred it myself!” Neville boasted. “So you can name it. It’s a cross between dodder, Venus flytrap, Nerium oleander, and a little infusion of magic.”

“How did you make a cross between three plants?” Harry asked.

Neville beamed. “Dodder is a parasite. It modifies itself using the genes of its host - so I used a combined dodder-and-oleander plant and magically bred it with a Venus flytrap! It’ll have beautiful flowers and it should be very resilient, I think.”

“Thanks, Neville!”

The plant was beautiful. It had pale green leaves and gorgeous purple flowers just starting to bloom.

Harry thought Aunt Petunia wouldn’t mind if he put it in her garden.

“It’s very rare,” he said. “Extremely rare and hard to get ahold of.”

Her eyes gleamed with greed. “Oooh. Then you must display it by the front door!” she said. “So all the neighbors can see!”

Harry got the plant out of the pot, and planted it in a sunny spot near the door, being careful of its little roots. He watered it and patted the soil down gently around it.

It almost seemed as though it leaned into his touch, and purred.

-

Harry’s pained cries reverberated through the soil of Number 4, Privet Drive.

The roots of a particular plant stirred, taking notice.

Their boy’s familiar voice. Their boy’s screams.

A stem grew steadily taller, reaching the open kitchen window. Lumps parted from the stem and opened, revealing ever-growing leaves covered with tiny trigger hairs.

When the roots that now completely dominated the soil beneath Number 4 felt continued screaming, the stem curved and entered the house.

Vernon Dursley’s angry tirade of ‘freakish boy, you deserve this! How dare you-” was cut off by green tendrils wrapping around his mouth. He tried to yank them off, only to realize that he was now entirely wrapped in the plant’s tendrils and could not move or make a sound. 

“Vernon?” called his horse-faced wife Petunia, concerned when her husband’s rant stopped suddenly. She came into the room to see him, and she, too, was tied up.

More and more of the plant made its way into the room. Hungry, jawlike leaves stretched open wide, clamping onto the Dursleys’ heads and squeezing.

Vernon’s carotid artery burst first, spraying blood as crimson as the deadly plant’s flowers. The warm, red liquid arced out of his crushed neck, soaking his wife head to toe. She didn’t have long to contemplate her husband’s impending death before her skull cracked with a heavy splintering sound. The leafy jaws kept pressing, squeezing her head into a pulpy mess of blood and brain and bone. 

This was the scene their son, Dudley, walked in on. Sensing the heavy footsteps with its roots, the plant sent tendrils shooting out to strap him down, spiky leaves dragging along his face, leaving trails of dripping blood, sliding into his eyes and down his chin. They mauled him again and again, until his face was a flat wall of broken tissue and flaps of skin.

He gargled, choking up his own blood through lips that had been ripped to shreds. The plant latched onto his bleeding flesh, eagerly absorbing the delectable meal. When his wounds had clotted, the plant started to scratch, again and again, tearing and drinking until his head and most of his torso had been utterly destroyed. Even his bones were in pieces.

And in the midst of it all was Harry Potter, unconscious on the floor.


End file.
